Page 47 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

DAVE SUMMERLY WAS WAITINGon my front steps when I arrived, once again talking on his phone. He wrote a number on the back of his forearm with a pen while the device was clamped between his ear and shoulder.

I’d been so distracted by Dave’s text that when Baby asked me to drop her on a corner so she could get an Uber and go to Arthur’s, I did, not really thinking about it. Back home, I parked and opened the door for Dave, who was still on his phone. He hung up and immediately powered out a quick series of messages without saying hello or even looking at me. He smelled of sweat and dirt and there were fine scratches on the backs of his hands and mud on the soles of his boots.

“What the hell happened to you?” I asked when he finally looked up from his phone.

“I went back out with a couple of crews looking for the note,” Summerly said. “I walked the brush. I climbed down into a goddamn ditch. We found some old pieces of a handgun and two dead raccoons but no note at the scene or anywhere nearby. If it ever existed.”

“Pretty thorough,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I did it for you.” Summerly put his hands on my shoulders. “Rhonda, I know you believe in this guy. I didn’t want you coming back to me telling me I didn’t search hard enough.”

I didn’t know what to say. Every inch of me was sizzling at his touch.

“What was so urgent?” I asked.

For a moment, the big man struggled. “Brogan gave me the death-knock job. I came straight here after seeing Daisy’s parents. I just ... ” He shook his head, chewed his lip. “I’m sorry. I know it’s selfish, and you and me, we’re sort of ... ”

“What?”

“I just needed to see you, Rhonda.”

We tore each other’s clothes off. It gets like that with me, at least sometimes. When I’m hurt or sad or furious, I’m driven to binge on food or work or exercise or men. I shoved the both of us into the shower and then into the bed, and for a while I was able to think about something other than what we’d both seen out at the foot of the mountains, something other than Alex Brindle’s guilt and panic, George Crawley’s innocent loyalty, and Troy Hansen’s raw, raw pain. I was able to focus on my hand gripping Summerly’s hair and not on that body bag on the gurney. I pulled Summerly into me and kissed him and forgot all about what kind of hell Mark and Summer Rayburn were walking through at that very moment.

The escape didn’t last long. Twenty minutes later, I was standing in the kitchen rustling up something for us to eat. Dave came in and ran a hand up my back, then headed for the fridge.

“We actually do need to talk,” I said.

“About what?”

I pointed to the cardboard box I’d put on the kitchen table, the box Troy had given me.

“That,” I said.

CHAPTER53

BABY STEPPED OUT OFthe Uber, flipped her sunglasses down over her eyes, and smoothed the front of her skirt. In heels, she was well over six feet tall, and the blazer she wore was sharp-shouldered and nipped in at the waist. When she reached the automatic doors at the front of the Enorme offices, she drew the attention of all three security guards, but she walked right past them to the black marble reception desk in the foyer. Behind it, a huge LED screen was showing an Enorme promotional trailer.

Business-expansion solutions that harness nature-taught growth. I thrive with Enorme!

The receptionist was on a call when Baby arrived, but Baby spoke anyway. “Barbara Bird for Su Lim Marshall.”

Hearing Marshall’s name galvanized the receptionist. She tore out her Bluetooth earpiece and hit a button on her computer. To be surprised, to be caught off guard, was to be vulnerable, and the company couldn’t afford that. Ever. Baby bet that hearing Marshall’s name gave people around here the twitches.

“Ms. Bird! Of course. This is, uh, this is regarding ... ”

“Regarding a contract for the sale of Arthur Laurier’s property.”

That got things rolling. The receptionist asked for ID, and Baby handed over one of her best. Then she stood back and pretended to fire off a batch of communications on her phone. The receptionist, still smiling, made a call, maintaining the facade that she’d been expecting Baby. Only forty-five seconds passed before she popped up from her seat and showed Baby to the elevators.

Su Lim Marshall’s office was on the third floor, down a long, empty hall from the elevators. Baby’s first impression of Marshall was a small, insectile woman. She came around her desk with the same calm, poised charm the receptionist had exhibited. Completely unfazed by her unexpected visitor. Ready for any obstacle.That’s what we do here. We refocus, adapt, neutralize.Baby didn’t return the smile.

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you,” Marshall said smoothly, showing Baby to a seat in front of her almost comically large and bare desk. The thing commanded the room like an altar, yet it was empty save for a cell phone and an iPad. “I’m so glad that Mr. Laurier has decided to accept our offer on Waterway Street.”

“Oh, he hasn’t,” Baby said.

Marshall stiffened microscopically. Baby saw a tendon in her throat go taut, then instantly soften again. The iPad gave a light musical note. Baby assumed it was announcing the arrival of a brief workup on herself, whatever the receptionist had been able to scramble together as Baby rode up on the elevator.

Baby placed her phone on the edge of the black glass sea that was the surface of Marshall’s desk. She pulled up a video, put the phone on speaker, and hit play. The sound of Chris Tutti’s voice fluttered around in the big room like a moth in a jar:

---